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Monday, 7 August 2017

THE BIG DREAMS BEACH HOTEL will publish globally on August 18th. Would you like to start reading it NOW, before it's published??

The Big Dreams Beach Hotel

Chapter 1

New
York is where I fell head over heels for a bloke named Chuck. I know: Chuck.
But don’t judge him just because he sounds like he should be sipping ice-cream
floats at the drive-in or starring in the homecoming football game. Rah rah,
sis boom bah, yay, Chuck!

Believe me, I didn’t plan for a Chuck in my life.
But that’s how it happens, isn’t it? One minute you’ve got plans for your
career and a future that doesn’t involve the inconvenience of being in love,
and the next you’re floating around in full dozy-mare mode.

I won’t lie to you. When Chuck walked into our
hotel reception one afternoon in late October, it wasn’t love at first sight.
It was lust.

Be still, my fluttering nethers.

Talk about unprofessional. I could hardly focus on
what he was saying. Something about organising Christmas parties.

‘To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m
doing,’ he confided as he leaned against the reception desk. His face was
uncomfortably close to mine, but by then I’d lived in New York for eighteen
months. I was used to American space invaders. They’re not being rude, just
friendly. And Chuck was definitely friendly.

‘I only started my job about a month ago,’ he told
me. ‘It’s my first big assignment, so I really can’t fuck it up. Sorry, I mean
mess it up.’ His blue (so dark blue) eyes bore into mine. ‘I’m hoping someone
here can help me.’

It took all my willpower not to spring over the
desk to his aid. Not that I’m at all athletic. I’d probably have torn my dress,
climbed awkwardly over and landed face-first at his feet.

Keep him talking, I thought, so that I
could keep staring. He looked quintessentially American, with his square
jawline and big straight teeth and air of confidence, even though he’d just
confessed to being hopeless at his new job. His brown hair wasn’t too long but
also wasn’t too short, wavy and artfully messed up with gel, and his neatly
trimmed stubble made me think of lazy Sunday mornings in bed.

See what I mean? Lust.

‘I noticed you on my way back from Starbucks,’ he
said.

At first, I thought he meant he’d noticed me.
That made me glance in the big mirror on the pillar behind him, where I could
just see my reflection from where I was standing. At five-foot four, I was
boob-height behind the desk in the gunmetal-grey fitted dress uniform all the
front-desk staff had to wear. My wavy dark-red hair was as neat as it ever got.
I flashed myself a reflected smile just to check my teeth. Of course, I
couldn’t see any detail from where I stood. Only my big horsy mouth. Mum says
giant teeth make my face interesting. I think I look a bit like one of the
Muppets.

‘Do you have the space for a big party?’ he said.
‘For around four hundred people?’

He didn’t mean he’d noticed me; only the hotel.
‘We’ve got the Grand Ballroom and the whole top floor, which used to be the
restaurant and bar. I think it’s even prettier than the ballroom, but it
depends on your style and your budget and what you want to do with it.’

Based on his smile, you’d have thought I’d just
told him we’d found a donor kidney for his operation. ‘I’ve been looking
online, but there are too many choices,’ he said. ‘Plus, my company expects the
world.’ He grimaced. ‘They didn’t like the hotel they used last year, or the
year before that. I’m in over my head, to be honest. I think I need a guiding
hand.’

I had just the hand he was looking for, and some
ideas about where to guide it.

But instead of jumping up and down shouting ‘Pick
Me, Pick Me!’, I put on my professional hat and gave him our events brochure
and the team’s contact details. Because normal hotel receptionists don’t launch
themselves into the arms of prospective clients.

When he reached over the desk to shake my hand, I
had to resist the urge to bob a curtsy. ‘I’m Chuck Williamson. It was great to
meet you, Rosie.’

He knew my name!

‘And thank you for being so nice. You might have
saved my ass on this one. I’ll talk to your events people.’ He glanced again at
my chest.

He didn’t know my name. He’d simply read my name
badge.

No sooner had Chuck exited through the revolving
door than my colleague, Digby, said, ‘My God, any more sparks and I’d have had
to call the fire department.’

Digby was my best friend at the hotel and also a
foreign transplant in Manhattan – where anyone without a 212 area code was
foreign. Home for him was some little town in Kansas or Nebraska or somewhere
with lots of tornadoes. Hearing Digby speak always made me think of The
Wizard of Oz, but despite sounding like he was born on a combine harvester,
Digby was clever. He did his degree at Cornell. That’s the Holy Grail for
aspiring hotelies (as we’re known).

Digby didn’t let his pedigree go to his head,
though, like I probably would have.

‘Just doing my job,’ I told him. But I knew I was
blushing.

Our manager, Andi, swore under her breath. ‘That’s
the last thing we need right now – some novice with another Christmas party to
plan.’

‘That is our job,’ Digby pointed out.

‘Your job is to man the reception desk, Digby.’

‘Ya vol, Commandant.’ He saluted, before
going to the other end of the desk.

‘But we do have room in the schedule, don’t we?’ I
asked. Having just come off a rotation in the events department the month
before, I knew they were looking for more business in that area. Our room
occupancy hadn’t been all the company hoped for over the summer.

‘Plenty of room, no time,’ Andi snapped.

I’d love to tell you that I didn’t think any more
about Chuck, that I was a cool twenty-five-year-old living her dream in New
York. And it was my dream posting. I still couldn’t believe my luck. Well, luck
and about a million hours earning my stripes in the hospitality industry. I’d
already done stints in England and one in Sharm El Sheikh – though not in one
of those fancy five-star resorts where people clean your sunglasses on the
beach. It was a reasonable four-star one.

There’s a big misconception about hotelies that I
should probably clear up. People assume that because we spend our days
surrounded by luxury, we must live in the same glamour. The reality is 4a.m.
wake-ups, meals eaten standing up, cheap living accommodation and, invariably,
rain on our day off. Sounds like a blast, doesn’t it?

But I loved it. I loved that I was actually being
paid to work in the industry where I did my degree. I loved the satisfied
feeling I got every time a guest thanked me for solving a problem. And I loved
that I could go anywhere in the world for work.

I especially loved that last part.

But back to Chuck, who’d been stuck in my head
since the minute he’d walked through the hotel door.

I guess it was natural, given that I hadn’t had a
boyfriend the whole time I’d been in the city. Flirting and a bit of snogging,
yes, but nothing you could call a serious relationship.

There wasn’t any time, really, for a social life.
That’s why hotelies hang out so much with each other. No one else has the same
hours free. So, in the absence of other options, Digby and I were each other’s
platonic date. He sounds like the perfect gay best friend, right? Only he
wasn’t gay. He just had no interest in me. Nor I in him, which made him the ideal
companion – hot enough in that freckle-faced farm-boy way to get into the
nightclubs when we finished work at 1 or 2a.m., but not the type to go off
shagging and leave me to find my way home on the subway alone.

‘I
hope you’re happy,’ Andi said to me one morning a few days later. The thing
about Andi is that she looks annoyed even when she’s not, so you’ve got to pay
attention to her words rather than the severe expression on her narrow face.
Nothing annoyed Andi like other people’s happiness.

But I had just taken my first morning sip of
caramel latte. Who wouldn’t be happy?

‘But I’m on reception.’ My heart was beating
faster. She could only be talking about one Christmas party.

‘Yes, and you’re not going to get any extra time
for the party, so don’t even think about it. I can’t spare anyone right now.
You’ll have to juggle. He’s coming in at eleven to see the spaces and hopefully
write a big fat cheque, but I want you back here as soon as you’re finished.
Consider it an early lunch break.’

Even though my mind warned me to stop questioning,
in case she changed her mind, I couldn’t resist. ‘Why isn’t Events handling
it?’

‘They would have if he hadn’t asked for you especially.
It’s just my luck that it’s a huge party. We can’t exactly say no.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Then wipe that stupid grin off your face and next
time try not to be so frickin’ nice.’

‘I need to use the loo,’ I told her.

‘Pee on your own time,’ she said.

I didn’t really have to go, despite the
industrial-size caramel latte. I just wanted to put on some make-up before
Chuck arrived. Instead he’d see my green eyes unhighlighted by the mascara and
flicky eyeliner that I rarely remembered to use. Pinching my cheeks did bring
up a bit of colour behind my freckles, at least.

Every time the revolving doors swung round, I
looked up to see if it was Chuck.

‘You’re going to get repetitive strain in your
neck,’ Digby pointed out. ‘And you know our workmen’s comp sucks, so save
yourself the injury. Besides, you look too eager when you stare at the door
like that.’

‘I’m putting on a convivial welcome for our
guests,’ I said. ‘Just like it says in the Employee’s Manual.’

He shook his head. ‘There’s no way that what you’re
thinking is in the manual.’

The weather had turned cold, which was the perfect
excuse for woolly tights and cosy knits or, if you were Chuck, a navy pea coat
with the collar turned up that made him look like he’d been at sea. In a suit
and dress shoes.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘I hate wasting
people’s time.’

‘It’s not a waste,’ I told him. ‘I’m just
working.’ I caught Andi’s glare. ‘I mean, I’m on reception. I can show you the
rooms any time you want.’

‘Thanks for agreeing to take on the party,’ he
said as we shared the lift to the top floor. ‘Not that I gave your colleagues
much of a choice. I told them I’d book the party if you were the one organising
it. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that you seemed … I don’t know, I got a
good feeling about you.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ I said, willing my voice to
sound calmer than I felt. Which meant anything short of stark raving mad. ‘Once
you decide which room is most suitable, we can start talking about everything
else.’

‘I knew you’d get it,’ he said.

The lift doors opened on the top floor into the
wide entrance to the former restaurant. ‘As you can see, there’s still a lot of
the original nineteen thirties decor,’ I said. ‘Especially these art deco wall
sconces. I love them. Ooh, and look at that bar.’

I’d only been up there a few times, so I was as
excited as Chuck as we ran around the room pointing out each interesting
feature, from the geometrically mirrored pillars to the sexy-flapper-lady light
fixtures.

‘I’m such a sucker for this old stuff,’ he said.
‘I grew up in a house full of antiques. Older than this, actually, in Chicago.’
Then he considered me. ‘You probably grew up in a castle from the middle ages
or something, being English.’

‘I don’t know what any of that means except for
the nineteen fifties, but it sounds exotic.’

‘Hardly. Let’s just say it looks nothing like
this. Will this be big enough, though? You said up to four hundred. That might
be a squeeze if we want to seat them all.’

‘My guest list has halved, actually,’ he said,
shoving his hands into his coat pockets. ‘The company isn’t letting spouses and
partners come. Isn’t that weird, to exclude them from a formal social event
like that? It’s going to be black tie with dinner and dancing. They were always
invited wherever I’ve worked before.’

The painful penny dropped with a clang. Of course
he’d have the perfect girlfriend to bring along. A bloke that cute and nice
wasn’t single.

‘Flable and Mead. The asset managers? Sorry, I
should have said before.’

Of course I’d heard of them. They were only one of
the biggest firms on Wall Street. No wonder Andi had to say yes when Chuck made
his request. We were talking big money.

And big egos. ‘I’m not surprised that other halves
aren’t invited,’ I told him. Surely he’d worked out why for himself. ‘They
usually aren’t invited in the UK either. The Christmas do is your chance to get
pissed and snog a colleague.’

Chuck laughed. ‘I’m really glad I’ve seen all
those Hugh Grant movies so I know what you’re talking about. So maybe it’ll be
everyone’s chance at Flable and Mead to snog a colleague too.’ When he smiled,
a dimple appeared on his left side. Just the one. ‘And as you’re working with
me to organise the party, I guess that makes you my colleague, right?’

Did he mean what I thought he meant? The cheeky
sod. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the ballroom.’

But the ballroom had nowhere near the ambiance of
the top floor, and I knew before Chuck said anything that it didn’t have the
right feel. Whereas upstairs had character and charm, the ballroom had bling.
I’d only known Chuck for a matter of hours, but already I knew he wasn’t the
blingy type.

‘Definitely upstairs,’ he said. ‘So it’s done.
We’ll book it. Now we just need to plan all the decorations, the food, the
band, DJ. I guess the fee goes up depending on how much in-house stuff we use.’
He laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I really am in too deep here. I talked my way into my
job. I have no idea how. My boss is a Northwestern alum like me and that must
have swung it for me. Before I only worked organising conferences and a few
parties at the local VFW hall. This is the big time.’

I knew exactly how he felt. When I first started
at the hotel I had to pinch myself. There I was, about to live a life I’d only
seen on telly. All I had to do was not muck things up. Digby had been on hand
to show me the ropes when I needed it. So the least I could do for Chuck was to
help him as much as I could.

That’s what I told myself. I was paying it
forward.

‘We’ve got a range of decorations we can do,’ I
told him, thinking about how much I was going to get to see him in the upcoming
weeks. I could really stretch things out by showing him one tablecloth per
visit. ‘And we work with a few good catering companies, who I’m sure can
arrange anything from a sit-down meal to a buffet. One even does burger bars,
if you want something more quirky.’

‘What I’ll want is for you to help me, Rosie. You
will be able to do that, right?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Whatever you need. It’s a
whopping great fee your company is paying. That buys a lot of hand-holding.’

‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he said. ‘The
second I came in and saw you, I knew this was the right choice. We’re going to
be great together, Rosie.’

Saturday, 15 October 2016

My newletter subscribers get advance review copies of my upcoming books and are the first to hear when my books are discounted, so if you're not already signed up, be sure to add your email here. I send out a few emails each year with free or bargain book offers and you can unsubscribe whenever you like.

Don't Miss Michele's Newsletter!

My new book has been launched into the world! This was so much
fun to write - every day on my jog in the park I got to imagine the
personalities of all the dogs I saw. Some of them feel like old friends now :-)

A comedy about good friends, bad dogs and fresh starts

Best friends Scarlett and Shannon spend their days tripping
over dog leads and covered in fur, running their dog business together.
Scarlett’s intensive training course, Ruff Love, fixes owners as much as their
pets, while Shannon spends her days walking spoiled pooches and working up the
guts to talk to her hopeless crush.

The women share more than their business though: they also
share Scarlett's husband, Rufus. He’s been Shannon's best friend since
childhood and it's a cosy setup - until Scarlett and Rufus's marriage hits the
rocks with Shannon stuck in the middle. All three relationships are tested but
when loyalties become divided, how do you decide who's most important?

Sunday, 10 July 2016

One of my favourite books, Bella Summer Takes a Chance, is getting a complete makeover - a new title, new cover and new blurb - to better fit the story.

Life Change

What would you change the second time around?

There’ve been a few changes in Bea’s life lately, starting with
accidentally ending her decade-long relationship over a Friday night
takeaway. Next goes her flat and then her job. Single, unemployed and
living in a rented room, Bea is flying without a safety net for the
first time in thirty-eight years.

So what is she supposed to do now that she’s rewound her life to start again?

She has no idea how to date anymore. It’s all gone online and with
so much competition at the click of a button, her aging bosom might not
be up to the job. People are waxing in places she can’t even reach and
posting red carpet-worthy selfies every ten seconds.

She used to dream of a musical career but is only getting gigs at
corporate away days or as background music for drunks in pubs. And her
ex is being a hundred times more charming in trying to win her back than
he bothered to be when he had her.

Monday, 5 January 2015

Friday, 31 October 2014

I have a new way to procrastinate... no longer is it enough to fiddle endlessly with covers for books that I haven't yet written (yes, I do that). I've learned to make book trailers, and they are so fun :-))

Single mother and extremely undomestic goddess, Lottie, has five
days to become the ultimate B&B hostess to save her beloved Aunt
Kate’s livelihood.

When Aunt Kate ends up in the hospital, Lottie and her
seven-year-old daughter are called to rural Wales to stand in at the
B&B. Without the faintest idea how to run a hotel (she can barely
run her own life), Lottie must impress the picky hotel reviewer and his
dysfunctional family who are coming to stay over Christmas. Without the
rating only he can bestow, Aunt Kate will lose her livelihood.

But will Danny, the local taxi driver who she hires to help her,
really be Santa’s little helper, or the Grinch who stole Christmas?

It publishes on November 13th globally on Amazon, but if you don't have a Kindle, it's also available in paperback :-)